


Bad Touch

by Venchaser



Series: Stiles's Totally Average Student Life [4]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Human, Angst, Boyd is six, Coming Out, Derek is Boyd's Godfather, Figuring Yourself Out, Fluff, Humor, Hurt, M/M, Rejection, Smut, Student!Jackson, Student!Stiles, Theme Park Trip, Working!Derek, baby!Boyd
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-27
Updated: 2014-10-27
Packaged: 2018-02-22 21:57:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,054
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2523176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Venchaser/pseuds/Venchaser
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Going to a theme park with a the new boyfriend, what could go wrong? A lot, apparently. Theme Park Prison is not that glamorous! </p>
<p>Or The One Where Stiles Met Derek In The Haunted House.</p>
<p>Part 4 of 'Stiles's Totally Average Student Life'</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bad Touch

**Author's Note:**

> Unbeta'd, I apologize for any lingering mistakes. You can always notify me! :)
> 
> Enjoy!

There stood Jackson, dressed in black chino pants and a Ralph Lauren polo-shirt, aviator glasses and the car keys dangling in his hand. It was one of those quirky days that manifest themselves during the first weeks, and sometimes even the final week, of October, when the weather is still a bit confused as to whether it’s summer, or autumn. The sun, already carved in the clear blue sky, shone brightly and emitted an agreeable warmth. A faint hint of mown grass and manure hung in the air, which was truthfully not that unpleasant; it was authentic and added character to the environment. Birds chattered away, and a swift breeze went through the trees, creating dancing shadows of leaves on the ground.

‘Jackson,’ Stiles exclaimed, clearly surprised. ‘What are you doing here? How did you even–?’

 Jackson, not expecting a half-dressed Stiles, was as equally surprised. He didn’t mind the view at all.

‘I asked Danny to hack into the university’s database.’

‘Not creepy at all.’ Stiles commented, but his mind started to race to other places because of the lascivious stare he got from Jackson; his boxers were starting to feel awfully tight. His heartbeat also seemed to pick up the pace.

Jackson’s eyes crept down, appraising Stiles’s underwear and its contents. He raised an eyebrow, and the same smug smirk Stiles had seen on multiple occasions played on his lips.

‘Batman?’

Stiles swore as he pulled his shirt a bit more down, covering himself.

‘Get in, then. I don’t want the neighbours to think I’m some sort of exhibitionist freak.’

‘I don’t mind,’ Jackson winked, and entered the house.

‘So, what ar- Jackson?!’

Jackson pulled Stiles in an intimate embrace, giving soft pecks on the younger man’s lips.

‘You’re hard.’ Jackson casually commented, his hand had descended between Stiles’s legs.  While his member was being caressed with a firm grip, Stiles let out a low moan, clutching the back of Jackson’s shirt.

‘The couch,’ was the only thing Stiles was able to mutter, as he dragged Jackson towards the sofa.

‘You like that?’ Jackson asked in between their sloppy kisses. ‘You like it when I tease you?’

He squeezed the hard organ. Tantalizing jolts spread through Stiles’s body as he called out Jackson’s name. Their lips were red, sensitive and swollen; their breath, hitched, erratic and ragged; their skin, wet, on fire, and trembling.

‘Hmmm, harder. Don’t stop.’ He begged. Stiles left hand explored Jackson’s broad back, trailing his spine while his right hand unzipped Jackson’s jeans, revealing his own aching member. He pressed his hips against Stiles’s, which provoked another prayer of arousal.

Jackson stroked their throbbing members together, teasing, hastening the movement and then slowing down agonizingly, playing with the heads. The sheer pleasure raced through their bodies, a warm tingling feeling settled in their stomachs, spines went rigid and toes curled in delight. Hips, desperately thrusting towards each other, trying to reach ecstasy.

‘Jackson, I’m gonna…’

‘Almost there… Come for me.’ Jackson moaned.

Stiles came first, closely followed by Jackson, who spilled generously over the grey shirt. Stiles sank deeper in the couch as Jackson collapsed on him, body still trembling from the rushing orgasm.

‘Good morning,’ Jackson mumbled, sporting a content grin and he planted small kissed in the other’s neck. ‘Now, go get dressed. We’re going out.’

‘Just, gimme a moment. Phew.’ Stiles laid sprawled on the couch while his chest still rose from delight.

*

When Stiles descended the stair, hair still wet from a quick shower, he found Jackson staring at some of the old family pictures. The majority of the pictures consisted of Stiles, his dad and mom. A few school pictures from when Stiles was younger, but recent photographs were nowhere to be seen.

‘This your family?’ Jackson asked. ‘Your mom’s pretty. You got her eyes.’

‘Yeah,’ Stiles throat went dry, his heart ached. ‘She was.’

‘Was?’

‘She died from frontotemporal dementia when I was young.’

‘Oh. Well, that sucks. So, uh, are we gonna leave yet?’ Jackson replied, as if they were talking about the weather. A cold arrow pierced Stiles. He shuddered even though the sun’s light wrapped him in a bundle of warmth. The icy distance of Jackson’s comment revolted his inner being. His comment was plain insensitive.

‘What’s wrong, babe? You look a bit pale.’

‘Don’t call me “babe”.’ Stiles brushed Jackson’s hand away. ‘Let’s go.’

*

Jackson’s surprise turned out to be a visit to a theme park. Normally, Stiles would resemble the Duracell Bunny, but Jackson’s indifference about his mom had somewhat soured his mood. Not that Jackson noticed.

 It irked him that Jackson showed so little empathy. He had to know more about Jackson.  At the moment, they stood in line for some crazy rollercoaster, which boasted to be the ‘number one cause of heart attacks in their park’. What a way to promote your attractions.

‘What about your parents, Jackson? What’re they like?’ Stiles asked in a faux-innocent voice. Jackson’s off-handed comment about his mother’s fate seriously bothered him. It kept popping up in his mind.

‘Meh, they’re not even my real parents so,’ he shrugged.

‘You’re adopted?’ exclaimed Stiles.

‘Yeah, never knew the real ones. Got dumped when I was born. Classic birth and ditch move. These ones just try to buy my love, which is kinda okay, gets me all kinds of awesome things. Still, I think they’re the worst people in the world. Their little rules, and fake overbearing protectiveness, and their constant need to prove they care for me. Pathetic. God, I despise them.’

There were so many offensive statements in that revelation Stiles that words failed to reach him. Stiles always thought he had issues: because of his mom’s passing, he was plagued with all sorts of psychological, fucked-up malaises such as panic attacks, performance anxiety and a general low self-esteem. No matter how many shrinks he saw, no matter how many people told him ‘It would be okay,’ it didn’t seem to improve anything. Scars never disappear, and his mother’s death had left his soul scarred. There would always be fear, always pain. Stiles reminded himself, or tried at least, that he was surrounded by people who loved him, and that they were there for him, even if he couldn’t see them in the dark. Jackson, however, seemed to have lost faith in humanity in its entirety. The way he loathingly spoke of his adoptive parents made Stiles sick to his stomach. But maybe his own mommy and daddy issues perhaps blurred his perspective on the problem matter.

So, in the end, Stiles, inappropriate as it may be, just gave Jackson’s ass a little pinch and smiled. Jackson appreciated it, the emotional fuckwit.  But hey, no one’s perfect.

They ended up riding the heart attack roller coaster three times. Queasy stomachs and scrambled brains? Yes. Failing hearts? Luckily, no. Stiles did wonder if Jackson could have a heart attack, given his apparent lack of one. They rested up at some benches near a water attraction. Seeing other people getting drenched did lift Stiles’s spirits a bit. And his mind was a bit more pre-occupied with trying to keep the contents of his stomach inside of him than with Jackson’s insensitiveness.

‘Hey, wanna check out the haunted house?’

‘Hmmm,’ Stiles was somewhat apprehensive ‘I’m not that big a fan of those things.’

‘C’mon, it’ll be fun. And look! There’s no line!’

‘I wonder why.’ Said Stiles as Jackson already got up, pulling his arm.

A gangly, acne-covered teen, dressed as a werewolf stood at the entrance of the decrepit mansion, repeating soullessly the same introduction over and over again:  

‘Oh, my Beloved. Where Art Thou? Wherefore art thou gone?’

What is this? Werewolf Romeo and Juliet?

‘I long for thee. Dost thou dare to enter these gates of Hell? To save us from the curse? Retrieve the moonstone, and get a deadly coupon for one of our many souvenir shops.’

Lovers? Curse?  Moonstone? Souvenir Shop? Stiles thought. Either the backstory to this attraction was so epic it could not be conveyed in words, or it was utter crap. The latter seemed a good guess.

The house itself was hidden in a copse of white barked trees. Their skeleton branches reached for the house desperately. Enormous cobwebs, Stiles hoped they were fake, were spotted everywhere. The wooden planks of the porch creaked and had a grey-brownish hue. The windows were boarded, the face of a young girl appeared every once in a while at the circular attic window. The sound of a wolf crying mixed with lightning and a crying baby wailed from a hidden speaker behind some bushes. The mansion stood there, towering intimidatingly. Haunted houses are usually not that well-made, and that was a good thing, because just the sight of this ghoulish house of death already made Stiles pee his pants. Just a bit.

‘Wow, they really put some effort into this one.’ Jackson said enthusiastically as Stiles prayed to Oprah for his little soul.

The doors opened and they stepped into the desolated hallway. Grand stairs awaited them, ready to guide them to the upper floor. The doors slammed shut behind them, giving Stiles quite the jump-scare already. His yelp and Jackson’s laughter echoed throughout the grand hall, mixed with sounds of an out-of-tune organ.

Stiles remained close to Jackson the entire time, digging his fingers into the other’s arm every time something remotely spooky happened; an actor who jumped from behind a corner, a ghost levitating through the air, a women screaming ‘murder’ behind a closed door, a spooky child that ran up and down a corridor with its annoying laughter, a rigged mirror whose surface cracked whenever you passed it, getting sprayed by splatters of ectoplasm. Actually, Stiles didn’t mind that last one so much. It did, however, piss off Jackson.

‘Dammit, my clothes!’ he swore.

They neared the end of the attraction, a  faint hint of daylight could be seen at the end of the hallway, Stiles was thanking the benevolent whatever-was-in charge-upstairs-now that he had not ruin his pants too badly, when they saw a pair of figures hunched over near a broken statue of a gargoyle. The smaller figure, a young, dark-skinned boy, was refusing to move, paralyzed by the fear of the trial. The larger one, a broad-backed man, tried to ease the kid.

‘C’mon Boyd, you can do this. You wanted to do the haunted house so badly? Now you gotta see through it. You’ve almost finished it! What a tough guy!’

Jackson rolled his eyes, familial affection did not seem to be his forte, while Stiles couldn’t help but smile a bit at the older man’s attempts to cheer up the boy. Stiles smile did falter the moment he realized that the stranger comforting the kid was, in fact, Derek. What were the odds?

‘Derek?’

‘Stiles?’

*

‘Wow, fancy meeting you here!’ Stiles said.

Jackson, Stiles, Derek and Boyd were sitting at the Halloween-themed snack bar. Boyd and Stiles were both happily sipping their vampire blood, a strawberry slushie, already the trauma of the horrors in the haunted mansion were a far-off memory. The two bonded over their shared upsetting experience, even if Boyd didn’t say much.

In the mansion, Derek had asked if they wanted to join them for a friendly drink, so of course Stiles agreed, he hadn’t thought it quite through, he blamed the haunted house. Jackson probably cracked a few bones in his hand when Stiles said ‘yes’. Maybe Derek was being just nice, or he had a hidden agenda. But when a scary, faceless witch is chasing you, you usually don’t think straight. Even if it is just part of the haunted house act.  And so the foursome ended up sitting, albeit a bit cramped up, together, having a drink.

‘What brings you here today? Taking out your illegitimate child?’ Jackson mocked.

‘Jackson!’ Stiles hissed. Jackson’s pride and possessiveness and jerk-like attitude, while attractive and desirable in theory, because who doesn’t like a ‘bad boy’, didn’t work in reality. Maybe it worked for Bella, but Stiles wasn’t feeling it. Then again, Jackson wasn’t a century-old vampire. Meanwhile his hand felt broken and bruised by Jackson’s vice-grip.

‘I’m taking my godson out for a day. He turned six just last week, isn’t that right, buddy?’ Boyd nodded proudly. Derek ignored the bitter tone in Jackson’s voice, but replied sternly, to signal he wasn’t about to be pushed over.

‘Wow! Are you liking your day so far, Boyd?’ Stiles asked, trying to give the atmosphere a positive swing.

Boyd moved his head shyly, slowly whispered something in Derek’s ear. Derek frowned ever so slightly as he focussed on the words that fell into his ear. Boyd occasionally stopped and glanced timidly towards Stiles, who was currently trying to pry his hand out of Jackson’s iron hold. Derek, unable to deny the little one’s wish, then asked Stiles.

‘Stiles, Boyd wants to ask if you like the enchanted forest ride.’

‘They have an enchanted forest ride?! How awesome is that?! Hey, Boyd, what’s your favourite fairy tale? Mine’s _Little Red Riding Hood_!’

‘Mine’s _Snow White_.’ Boyd softly said.

‘Please behave, Jackson.’ Stiles whispered before he left.

 ‘Alright then! Let’s go!’ and off they went to the enchanted forest ride, leaving the two grumps together with their furious stare down contest.

 ‘I don’t like you.’ Jackson began the moment Stiles and Boyd were out of earshot.

‘That makes two of us then. Tell me if I’m wrong, but aren’t you one of the guys who frequently goes to Triskele? I think I saw you getting frisky with some girls a couple of times. I wonder if Stiles knows.’ Derek bite back.

‘Those bitches don’t mean anything, but I do need to keep up some appearance.’ Jackson almost boasted with his indiscretions. ‘And are you stalking me? Freak!’

‘Are you always that nice to girls? Calling them those names? And no, not stalking a little prick like you. But I do co-own Triskele, you know, that hip and trending club, with my sister, so I do frequent it every so often. The VIP box has a great view of the dance floor.’

‘Back off, asshole. Stiles is mine.’ Jackson slammed his fast hard on the table, making the surrounding people look up at the brewing fight.

‘Oh, wow. You’re going there? Stiles isn’t some sort of trinket you can carry around. How do you think he’d feel if he knew you’re going behind his back chasing some random girls?’

‘You don’t know _anything_. I can do whatever I like.’

‘You’re a horrible person.’

‘Say what you want,’ Jackson’s face turned mean. ‘But at least I’m getting my dick sucked tonight.’

A line was crossed, because the moment that last syllable escaped Jackson’s mouth, Derek fist connected with Jackson jaw. A fight broke out between the two men, and in eventually, after several plastic forks and knifes had swooshed through the air, a couple of guards appeared, subduing and taking the two apparent fist fighters to theme park prison.

*****

‘Are you _actually_ kidding me? What are you guys? Kids? Jackson, why are you so… uurgh. And Derek, I expected more of you. You have you _godson_ here for crying out loud.’

Stiles was currently having his little tirade. When he returned with Boyd from a pleasant ride, Derek and Jackson were nowhere to be seen. Fearing something had happened, Stiles addressed a staff member, who quite animatedly described the fight that just had taken place.

‘And then the other guy just went in with a fistful of ketchup packets.’

‘Ah. How… fascinating. Where did they take them? Do you know?’ Stiles kept his cool, if only to calm down the silent Boyd.

‘Staff area. This is how you get there,’ the staff member drew a map.

Boyd bravely held Stiles’s hand as they walked towards the personnel-only area. It felt grand, if Stiles had to be honest with himself, to enter the restricted-access site, but he also was drenched in vicarious shame because of the behaviour of Jackson and Derek, which now forced him to take a kid he didn’t even know along to get his godfather out of theme park prison. After some embarrassing conversations, a lot of apologizing and walking down several long corridors filled with staff members who gave them the odd look, they arrived at a makeshift prison, occupied by a black-eyed Jackson and Derek who had a bloody tampon stuck up his nose.

‘Are these two yours?’ asked the guard.

‘Unfortunately.’ Stiles sighed.

And that’s how they ended up, all four, in a remote area of the theme park. After Stiles’s initial rant, Derek tried to squeeze in his version of the event. Jackson had remained oddly silent.

‘Stiles you don’t-‘ he tried to explain.

‘I’m not finished.  You assaulted Jackson? I knew you had a bit of a temper, but this is ridiculous. And is that a tampon in your nose?’ Anger momentarily forgotten, Stiles raised his right eyebrow questioningly.

‘Yeah,’ said one of the security guards who was dunking his greasy donut in a cup of coffee; guess the stereotypes are true then. ‘The guy was bleeding like a pig, normal tissues didn’t help. One of our female co-workers said these were extra absorbent and would do the trick.’

Stiles turned to Jackson. ‘Jackson. Why?’

He just puffed in reply, which provoked a singeing glare from Stiles.

‘Stiles, you gotta know.’ Derek tried to get his attention, his voice all nasally because that tampon was shoved so far up his nose it completely blocked the nostril. ‘I was the one who threw the first punch. But I had a good reason.’

‘Oh yeah? I’m listening.’ Stiles replied sceptically, not really expecting a valid excuse.

‘He’s cheating on you. He comes to my club all the time with his douche-friends. He is literally eating the faces of girls there all the time. It’s disgusting. I don’t care what you think of me, but just rethink what you’re doing with this tool.’ Derek pointed accusingly at Jackson, whose eyes, torn with rage, were bulging rather dangerously at the moment.

‘Officer, can they leave?’ Stiles simply said, exhausted.

‘Normally, ya gotta put up a bail. But these schmucks gave us some good entertainment. They can leave.’ Stiles suspected the guard was not doing this because he got a good laugh out of the whole ordeal, but he felt sorry for Stiles, but even more for Boyd, who was shaking like a leaf.   ‘But not together. Who knows what’ll happen. This rascal here seems to be rabid.’ He motioned towards Jackson.

‘I’ll let tampon guy go first. Be good now.’ Derek, miserable and beaten, released from his makeshift cage, walked up to Boyd and lifted the boy, who now grabbed onto him as if his dear life depended on it.

‘Stiles, I just–‘

‘Keep walking.’ Stiles, not even granting Derek a glance, moved towards Jackson’s cell. Jackson trembled, quaked with a medley of emotions: fear, anger, annoyance, sadness, but most of all, guilt and shame.

‘Do you guys want some privacy?’ the guard asked carefully.

‘If you’d be so kind,’ Stiles batted his eyelashes. And then they were alone in theme park prison.

‘Was Derek lying?’ Stiles asked, his voice strangely calm. Jackson refused to look him in the eye. ‘Jackson?’

‘No.’ he said grudgingly.

‘Okay. Good. That’s all I needed to know.’ Stiles made a move towards the door, ready to leave Jackson behind in his mangy little cell until the guard would release him.

‘Oy, wait. No, no, no. Hold on.’ Jackson let out a pathetic little laughter. ‘I can explain, buddy.’

‘Sure you can.’ Stiles turned around, his hand on the doorknob. ‘You’re not ready to come out, and you have to keep up your appearances, your little douchebag alter ego with your vapid friends. I get that.’

Jackson seemed relieved for a moment. ‘Good. Then you understand.’

‘Yeah, I do.’ The lock of the door clicked, the doorknob turned.

‘Hey, wait, you just said you understood!’

‘That’s correct, Whittemore.’ Stiles said calmly. ‘But I have no intention of dating you, calling you my boyfriend if you’re hooking up with girls behind my back just because you’re too scared of your dumb friends.’

‘You can’t leave me here!’ Jackson screamed.

‘You’re right, I can’t. You drove us here, and you got the keys, remember? Chill. I’m just going to wait outside, if you don’t mind. I need some peace.’

He shut the door behind him, perhaps a bit more forceful than necessary, but it got the message across. Stiles let himself slid down to the cold floor. He felt hollow, as if he was inhabiting a body that wasn’t his. Lifting his arms felt alien, taking breaths felt surreal, thinking felt empty. He wasn’t sad, no. There were no tears burning in his eyes, nor was there that painful throbbing of the heart. He was disappointed, and that was all. It was really simple, not everything had to be complicated.

After a little while, the guard had already re-entered the little prison, Jackson emerged from his confinement, sporting his black eye like a mark of shame.

‘Let’s go home, then.’ Stiles said. Neither one spoke after those last words.

*

The car ride back home was awkward, to say the least. At first, the silence was unbearable, so Stiles decided to turn on the radio. Of course, just at that moment the radio station was having a top fifty of the best love songs. Oh, the irony! After Whitney had sung a couple of bars, Stiles muted the radio. Jackson attempted to say something a few times, but only an undecided noise escaped from his throat, it resembled something between a whine and a groan. When they finally arrived at Stiles’s house, the words came.

‘Stiles, what are we going to do?’ Jackson asked, his voice broke like a prepubescent boy.

‘We? What are _you_ going to do? Listen, Jackson. I like you. I really, really like you.’

‘What’s the problem then?’

‘Let me finish. You’re a great guy, funny, you have your nice moments, and you’re body is superfluously hot. I mean, you make me rise an hour early, if you know what I mean. But on the other hand, you treat other people like lesser beings, and you can be incredibly insensitive. That remark about Boyd, being Derek’s illegitimate child? You crossed a line. Your comments about your adoptive parents were rude and ungrateful, but maybe I’m not too objective on that subject. But can I just say, do you know how lucky you are? Having _two_ parents, healthy, that care for you?’

‘Hey, you don’t know shit about that. You had your two parents too, your _real_ ones. I, I, …’ Jackson began to sound like a broken record.

Stiles interjected him: ‘And to top it all off, you’re afraid of coming out. Listen carefully. I like you, but how can I get to know you when you don’t even know yourself? When you can’t be honest with yourself? I think it be best if we stopped seeing each other for a while. To get everything sorted out, ‘kay?’

For a moment, Stiles though Jackson might throw a punch, he didn’t look to happy.

‘You think you have me figured out?’

‘I don’t –‘  Stiles began, but was interrupted by Jackson who suddenly raised his hand, signalling he didn’t want to hear it.

Jackson didn’t respond after that. Instead, he stared at the long road ahead of him.

Eventually he said: ‘Fine. But Stiles. Don’t erase me just yet.’

‘I won’t.’ Stiles exited the car and made his way to his front door. The engine of Jackson’s car roared aggressively and was gone in a flash.

He stood there then for a moment, taking in everything. The sky was dirty blue above him, it paled into a soft yellow and faded into orange at the horizon; clouds were lined with blazing pink; the howls of traffic in the distance sounded through the air.

The house seemed empty, but all the memories were still there. Stiles sat on the couch in silence with a picture of him, his father and mother in his hands. The slow twilight crept up on him as the clock ticked the minutes away.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you, my little readers for reading the newest installment! I hope you enjoyed it! What will happen next? Who knows! ;)
> 
> I love your comments and kudos :)  
> Did you like the smut scene? It was my first real attempt at explicit smut. Constructive feedback is greatly appreciated!  
> Feel free to drop by! http://perksofbeingaverage.tumblr.com/   
> See you next time, 
> 
> Love, V.


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